


Emma Swan Is Having A Stroke

by seriousfic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 05:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seriousfic/pseuds/seriousfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina can physically affect the world simply by making gestures. At any point in any scene in Once Upon A Time, if Regina’s hands aren’t visible and Emma isn’t saying anything, it’s possible that Regina is rubbing her fingers together, Emma’s clit is throbbing, and no one is noticing. Even during a town hall meeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emma Swan Is Having A Stroke

Emma tried to think of ways town hall meetings were better than Neverland. Indoor plumbing. No kids trying to kill her when they should’ve been in school. Then again, given the choice between high school and murder, it would’ve been a toss-up for her.

 

But apparently being a princess wasn’t all rainbow kisses and unicorn rides. Royals were actually supposed to listen to every dumbass idea Storybrooke had. No wonder Regina had gone bad.

 

Speaking of the Evil Queen—not to mention pressing the flesh—Regina was standing in front of city hall, holding Henry’s hand. She gave Emma her fondest look, with almost every trace of condescension wiped away. “Good luck, Emma. I know how Storybrooke can be.”

 

“Oh, you’re just saying that because they tried to lynch you.”

 

“That’s highly unlikely in your case—unless you try to sing.”

 

“I have a great singing voice. Get it from my mother. Squirrels listen to me sing.”

 

“Ah yes, rodents, with their renowned taste in music.”

 

“We should go inside,” Henry said, “get a good seat.” He could tell a barnburner was on the way—one that would have Regina and Emma fighting all night. He heard them sometimes. It was a wonder there weren’t more bruises when they were done.

 

Emma shrugged and turned to leave. “Oh, Emma,” Regina called, waiting for her to be looking away to interrupt her, “remember that time I was trying to make a speech and you kept making faces at me?”

 

Emma remembered. Regina brought it up whenever Emma mentioned Regina had cursed everyone in town. “I had a cold! I was trying to hold in my sneezes!”

 

“Yes, so you’ve said,” Regina said ominously. “See you inside.”

 

***

 

Emma still wasn’t sure how the town government worked between the Enchanted Forest and Storybrooke. She guessed they elected Mary-Margaret to continue being royalty? But Snow was good at this. She stood in the big jury box thing at the head of the room. Emma just had to sit next to her looking regal, and she was having a hard time with _that_. David was doing much better. In the front row, even Regina looked like a Jedi.

 

“Our first item,” Mary-Margaret announced, like Meryl Streep taking tea, “will not be discussed by this committee because it is a proposal for Geppetto to carve a wooden replica of Megan Fox and have the Blue Fairy bring her to life for ‘town morale.’ Leroy, we’ve been over this.”

 

“Everyone who comes to this town is a hot guy! We get no women!” Leroy protested. “If we don’t promote from within, we’re gonna end up looking like Red China!”

 

Emma was about to chime in when she felt something like an electric current run through her body, leaving her toes tingling and a heady sensation in her… head. She looked around to see if anyone else had felt it, but Mary-Margaret was just carrying on with the meeting.

 

_Just my imagination,_ Emma told herself. Some dumb fairy version of her foot falling asleep.

 

That’s what she believed, right up until her eyes opened wide in complete disbelief. She’d felt something. Definitely something _real,_ not an itch or a tickle, but like a firm hand had taken hold of her for a moment and…

 

It had felt good. Very good.

 

She looked around, as if she hadn’t noticed someone standing right next to her and doing foreplay, but there was no one. In fact, no one was paying the slightest bit of attention to her except for Regina, seated in the front row with her coat in her lap, hands neatly folded under them. She gave Emma a smile that was one-part reassuring, two-parts… something else.

 

Emma’s entire body seemed to be easing into a warm bath, her skin growing sensitive. It made her strangely receptive to fleeting touches across her body. Pleasant, _tingling,_ almost imperceptible yet impossible to ignore. She felt the barest touch of fingertips down her thigh, but it was more like a strong gush of air than anything solid. The touch, if that’s what it was, stopped, then came again, hovering over the nape of her neck. Then brushing her shoulder blade. Winding in sinuous waves down her back, over her spine and ribs, lower, lower, to her ass and then daringly over her anus. Emma gasped. It felt as if someone had prodded… _inside._

She looked up. Mary-Margaret was glancing at her, eyebrow raised. Thankfully, she went back to her notes before Emma had to think up a response. “Next, I’d like to discuss the town fire department. Now, we have very hardworking firefighters here in Storybrooke, but it would make their jobs a lot easier if we were more careful with open flames. I don’t care if we’re forging a sword or roasting a pig on a spit, there’s no excuse for a lack of fire safety…”

 

Emma squeezed her thighs together and was shocked to feel an answering rush of pleasure be soaked up by her body. It was impossible. She was in public, five feet away from her _mother,_ fully dressed and being molested by a ghost or something. She couldn’t be getting turned on. It was just—

 

Emma looked up at Regina, sitting there supportively like the perfect girlfriend. She made a small gesture of blowing Emma a kiss. And Emma’s lips tingled with an airy kiss.

 

No. No way.

 

Frantically, Emma pulled her phone from her pocket and texted Regina. Thankfully the podium was so high that Emma could pretend she was just looking downcast and solemnly nodding—unfortunate that Mary-Margaret was discussing the annual Puppy Run at the moment. She spelled out: _I know what you’re doing._

Regina pantomimed a great look of surprise as her phone vibrated. She took it out and typed. A moment later, Emma’s phone buzzed. She looked at it.

 

Regina had sent her nothing but apple emojis.

 

_You’re a crazy bitch,_ Emma sent back, but she softened the blow by ending it with a smiley face.

 

Regina looked at her phone, nodded to herself, then ran her finger slowly over her touchscreen.

 

The touch was mirrored on Emma’s body, a phantom finger running from her belly button to—Emma pursed her lips to keep from moaning.

 

“Are we distracting you from something?” Mary-Margaret asked, and Emma looked around like a tasered wombat before seeing that it was directed at Regina, who smartly put away her phone.

 

“Just letting my fingers do the walking,” Regina replied. “Please, continue.”

 

Regina folded her hands and once more set them under her coat. Emma looked at her with a poker face, holding it as she tensed her muscles, as if to ward off Regina’s magic. But she stopped when it wasn’t forthcoming. Regina was just sitting there. And Emma was just sitting there.

 

She stared at Regina, challenging her, and Regina stared right back. Her lips parted, in fact. Then pursed. Then blew.

 

Emma felt a puff of air in her ear, as soft as if they were back in bed with Regina trying to wake her. She jerked her head to the side, indicating Henry. As in, _their son who was right next to Regina as she used the Force for foreplay._

“Are you alright?” David whispered, startling Emma nearly out of her seat. She held on to the legs of her chair like they might go somewhere.

 

“I’m fine,” Emma whispered back. “Water in my ear.”

 

She looked back at Regina to see the former mayor handing Henry a ten-spot and sending him on his way. When he was gone, she raised an eyebrow.

 

Emma could’ve sworn she felt her blouse being unbuttoned, but when she clutched it, it was completely done up. _Christ,_ how good was Regina at this, anyway?

 

Emma remembered last night. Okay, very good. But still, even Lucy Lawless needed to use her hands, right?

 

Regina politely crossed her legs, smiling and nodding, looking around for friends in the audience as, under her coat, her hands worked mercilessly. Emma felt them, the exact width and sharpness of Regina’s nails gently scratching her neck, clawing at her back, running down her legs. One moment hard enough to draw blood, though she knew they couldn’t. The next soft enough to be teasing. And finally, both at once, hinting at even more. A taunting, promising massage delivered right through her clothes.

 

Then the fingertips themselves, gentler than the nails but fuller as well. A tease that was even harder to ignore. But still so light that it seemed impossible she couldn’t ignore it, that if she just concentrated a little harder she could block it out. But her will was always left wanting. Regina knew just how to touch her so she’d really _feel it_ yet never being overwhelming. The unrelenting gossamer caresses not only made her want them to continue, to cover all of her body in their tender touch, but want _more._

 

Emma felt her breath heighten even as the tension drained from her nervous body. Leaving only a sort of anticipation. Everything in her, the whole of her body, was welcoming these intangible sensations. It was only sheer stubbornness that had her opening her eyes and staring down Regina like they were back in the days when things might end with a swordfight. Regina bit her lip in reply. That alone would be enough to turn Emma on, even without the phantom hands brushing over her breasts, coming back to her hardening nipples again and again…

 

Emma crossed her arms before anyone could notice her headlights were on, tightening her hands on her biceps as if she could shut Regina out. In return, Regina pouted exaggeratedly. Stuck her tongue out at Emma for a half-second. Emma felt a corresponding stroke of heated wetness strike her inner thighs.

 

“You feeling alright, Emma?” David asked, his whisper a little louder now.

 

Emma could only nod. _Look away, look away, look away._

 

Thankfully, Regina put her little fun on hold while he stared at her in concern, only petting Emma’s face like a loving pet owner. It was when David returned to backing up Mary-Margaret that the touch flowed downward, over her heaving breasts (Emma could see a look of profound smugness on Regina’s face when she ‘felt’ how hard her nipples were), along the soft curves of her belly, under her pants, under her panties. Emma felt herself open up, her labia parted by nothing more than Regina’s will, and gently whispered “ _Yes…”_

“Yes what?” Mary-Margaret asked, looking at her.

 

Everyone was looking at her.

 

Regina stifled a yawn.

 

“Yes to… what you were saying,” Emma nodded, “obviously.”

 

“That public drunkenness is at an all-time high?”

 

“Mmm-hmm. This town knows how to party.”

 

Mary-Margaret gave Emma a fearsome ‘we will discuss this later, young lady’ look and turned back to her agenda. “Now what can you, the average citizen, do to prevent public intoxication?”

 

Emma suddenly felt her nipples twist painfully—but pleasurably as well, the pain gentling into an elaborate caress of her breasts. Soothing and arousing all at once. Her mouth dropped open before she thought to close it. It was like her body was a musical instrument being played by a world-class musician. She actually started to enjoy Regina’s efforts. Not only that, but she was impatient for Regina to grow even bolder! To literally fuck her on stage in front of the entire town.

 

Emma clenched her fists—then shrugged. She’d done worse in college. Besides, she knew what she was getting into when she started dating the Evil Queen. Spreading her legs, Emma faced Regina Mills. And mouthed _bring it._

Regina gave her a showy, confused look— _whatsoever do you mean, Miss Swan?—_ then brought her hand up to scratch her ear. She set it back down on her lap, exposed. Then she extended a finger.

 

And when Emma felt it plunge all the way into her overheated core, it was like she’d been set on fire. A moment of instantaneous delight that had her biting her tongue to keep from screaming. She thought she tasted blood before the ecstasy passed. Then she felt more hands—she couldn’t even count—running over her breasts hard enough to flatten them to her chest, squeezing her buttocks, rubbing her thighs, even tracing her lips. They were never substantial enough to compete with that singular finger sinking deep inside Emma, but when she closed her eyes, she was in heaven. Heaven with at least three Reginas…

 

“Emma, seriously, are you okay? You look flushed.” Mary-Margaret had sat down to allow David to speak, and she was looking at Emma like she’d just caught her dressed as a giant ostrich. An anatomically correct ostrich.

 

“I’m good.” Emma was interrupted by the sensation between her legs _doubling._ “So good…” When she glanced at Regina, she saw that two fingers were extended in her lap, tapping against her knee. Hurriedly, Emma looked back at Mary-Margaret. “I just, uhh, think I’m going down— _coming down_ with something.”

 

“So you’re not drunk?”

 

“ _No!”_

“Alright,” Mary-Margaret conceded, folding her hands in her lap so she could return to gazing lovingly up at her husband.

 

And Emma’s hands tightened on her crossed arms, wishing she could take her aching nipples in her hands and relieve their need in the way Regina teasingly _wasn’t._ She was being penetrated, she was simultaneously experiencing every caress Regina knew, but it was a case of jack of all trades, master of none.

 

All the magic in the world didn’t compare to having Regina herself in her bed.

 

Then she felt the fire inside her take a bucketful of gasoline. Regina had three fingers in her lap. Emma groaned, got an odd look from Mary-Margaret but didn’t even acknowledge it. She looked at the clock. Five more minutes. She just had to last five more minutes without coming, then she could grab Regina, throw her into the nearest supply closet, and show her why you didn’t mess with Charmings.

 

They always got you back in the end.

 

The alternative was never showing her face in a town hall meeting again. Which wouldn’t be so bad, but not if she had Regina to thank for it. She’d thank Regina for the release her whole body was _demanding,_ but not on public property.

 

It was then that Henry returned. Emma watched, mortified, as he strolled down the aisle. He had two ice cream cones in his hand—bought from the vendor outside town hall. One for himself… and he handed the other to Regina.

 

The Evil Queen looked Emma in the eye, then glanced down at the tasty treat before her. She licked her lips.

 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Emma said quickly, before running backstage, looking around desperately, seeing the bathroom. She ran to it, threw the door open—thank God no one was inside—leapt in, slammed the door shut and couldn’t be bothered with the lock. She just held the door closed as the pleasure that Regina had been steadily filling her body with finally broke loose, absolutely overrunning her.

 

She didn’t stop coming until her juices were running down her thighs.

 

On her knees against the door, Emma managed with trembling hands to turn the lock. Then, still shaking in the throes of her orgasm, she pulled herself up on the sink. Looked at herself in the mirror. Rode hard and put away wet; she hoped Regina was happy.

 

She knew she was. And the fact that she had been watched by so much of the town while she was brought to such an orgasm had only made her more aroused. And the more she had repressed her body’s reaction to Regina’s efforts, the harder Regina had worked. She might have overdone it just a tad, Emma thought as she cleaned herself up.

 

A knock came at the door. Emma knew who it was. She opened the door to find Regina Mills, wiping her mouth with a napkin. She had a smidge of ice cream on her chin.

 

“I just had,” Regina said, “the tastiest treat. Perhaps you would like one as well, to make you feel better? I hear you’re unwell.”

 

Emma gave her a death-glare. Regina could be as naughty as she wanted, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t have to grovel a little after. Let Emma play pillow princess.

 

“You didn’t tell me to stop,” Regina said pointedly.

 

“I called you a crazy bitch.”

 

“I wasn’t aware stating the obvious was a safe word. Now, do you want ice cream or not? My treat?”

 

Emma shook her head, grabbed Regina, and kissed her hard. She would absolutely be getting ice cream, though she wouldn’t be eating it out of a cone…

 

It was then that Mary-Margaret found them, face twisted in concern. “Emma just threw up!” she exclaimed in horror.


End file.
